


This Is Someone Else's Nightmare

by Draikinator



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, No Mercy, Reader Is Chara, Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara has always hated humans, because humans have always, always been evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Someone Else's Nightmare

“Humans are evil, you know.”

Asriel gives you a curious, confused look, his furry hands going still around the lilac purple crayon he was scribbling on the paper with, “Huh?”

You don’t look up at him, shrugging as you carefully colour inside the lines. You’re drawing Mom, “Yeah. Pretty much every single human ever. We’re like, really mean, and all we ever do is kill eachother.”

“You’re not like that, though.”

“I could be. I probably will be, when I grow up,” he looks a little uncomfortable, but you ignore him, colouring in the purple hem of Mama’s dress, “I don’t know if we can help it. We’re just born bad, I guess.”

“Chara-” he starts, putting down his crayon and sitting up. You carefully outline the delta rune on her chest.

“I came here on purpose, you know. I knew there were monsters on this mountain,” he sits down next to you and looks at your picture of Mom. You’ve always been better at colouring than him; your hands were better suited for such dextrous things, “And everyone said monsters were evil. So one day,” you outline her dress in black, because you should always work light to dark with crayon, “When humans were being particularly evil to me, I decided to climb Mt. Ebott. I figured I’d find something really evil here. Monsters that would make humans look good in comparison.”

He looks stricken. You outline her smile.

“And then I jumped. And it turns out, monsters aren’t evil at all! Monsters are wonderful!” You smile as you say it, “Humans, humans though.” You frown, “I was right. From the very beginning, I was right. Humans are evil.”

“Chara…” He says, pathetically, clawed hand wavering over your arm. You pick up the red crayon.

“Fucking evil,” you snarl, and smash the tip of the red crayon into the paper, scribbling so hard it burns down the end of the crayon and tears through the paper, but you keep scribbling, “We’re all fucking evil.”

* * *

 

You wake up with petals on your face and moisture in your eyes. Your ribs ache and your hands are scuffed and scabbed, dirt beneath the nails. You sit up, disoriented, in a sea of golden flowers, dipping their heavy heads gently in the light cavern breeze. You pat your shorts off and stand, righting yourself carefully on the uneven ground.

You have no idea where you are. You look up, and see sky in the distance, shining through the barrier. Didn’t this happen already? Is this a dream?

You take a step forward and it chills your spine, because you didn’t take that step- your body did, without your permission. You’re walking around but you aren’t doing it, it isn’t you- you’re terrified, suddenly, of the blue of your sweater and the dirt in your hair because none of it makes sense.

“Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the flower!”

Your head swings toward the noise and you see a flower, smiling innocently at you from the soft earth. You step towards it, cocking your head to the side curiously. You kind of want to get away from it, because it looks so suspicious, but you walk towards it anyway, betraying yourself. The flower is yammering on some bullshit about love and friendliness pellets that no one would believe, but you can feel this weird warmth of trust in your chest. You hate it. You want to claw it out like an animal with a leg in a trap.

The bullets move slowly, toward you but your body doesn’t move. That warmth of trust is still glowing but you aren’t a fucking idiot like your body has suddenly become, and you fight against it. It wants to stand here?? It wants to die?? It wants to trust a fucking flower?? Fuck that! Fuck you! You wrench yourself to the side, surprising yourself as your legs listen to you, finally, stepping out of the way of the bullets. The flower’s frustrated sneer fills you with a different kind of warmth, something older, more familiar.

You smile back at it.

* * *

 

“Oh, come on,” you whine. Your mouth stays closed, of course, but you’re saying it anyway, somehow, to whoever the hell’s body this is. It certainly isn’t yours. You’re feeling things out, now, a little resigned, but it felt kind of like this with Asriel, too, so at least you know what’s going on. This kid is talking to a frog, like a total chump. Boring.

Mom’s here, though, and that’s interesting. You can’t talk to her, of course, this body’s owner is pretty much ignoring you at this point and you can’t really be assed to make them do anything, anyway. Who cares, right? At least you get to sightsee. Maybe you’ll even get to taste some of that pie, and wouldn’t that be awesome? You were craving cinnamon already, even if this dumb loser preferred butterscotch, Mom knew best.

You step out onto a massive overhang, staring at the sprawling, empty cityscape before you. It was dead quiet. You must have been dead awhile.

Something catches your eye- a shape on the ground in the corner. Your body wants to look away, but you don’t. It’s just sitting there. Anyone could take it. You will your body to pick the toy knife up and hold it with two hands, running your fingers over the dull plastic blade. Wow. Weird. You shove it into your waistband and leave. Mom’s waiting for you in the garden, a big room with a single dead tree and a spatter of dead leaves. She holds your hand and heals your cuts and scrapes like she used to, and when you’re inside, she runs off because her pie is burning.

This place looks just like your old house. It’s not, though- things are different enough. It’s the same shape, sure, but the panelling is different, the molding on the stairwell is newer. You let your body amble down the hallway, taking it all in.

They stop in front of a mirror and you get to see the fleshsuit you’re stuck in for the first time and with a jolt you realize they’re human. Really and truly absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt, human.

You’re stuck inside an evil thing. You can feel the taint of its body already, sick and vicious. When you were in Asriel’s you were free, if only for a few minutes, of that human evil, but now? You’re right back in it.

“It’s _you_.” You murmur, leaning in to look at it closer. You hope they hear it. You hope they hate you. Filthy, disgusting, evil.

 _Monster_.

* * *

 

“I hate you, you know,” you whisper, idly, into your shared mind. They tilt their head like they can hear you, which surprises you, because you’d figured they couldn’t, actually.

“Yeah,” you continue, and they walk along the mushroom-lit path in the marshy waters of Waterfall, “You’re human. That makes you evil. You keep acting like you’re not, but I’m human, too, so I know better. You’re just pretending because if they think you’re good they’ll help you.”

They pause, before shaking their head and stepping more purposefully forward. You keep going, because you’ve finally got their attention, “Yeah! I can tell your first instinct is to hurt people. You want to kill everyone, I can feel it. Everything else is only the second option.”

They seem somewhat perturbed, mashing a mushroom into light and life a little harder than they need to, “So what? So you chose to talk to some frogs and flex with Aaron? It doesn’t change the fact that the first thing your soul tries to do is FIGHT.”

They’re still walking, fists clenched at their sides, “I’m in your head, buddy! Don’t think you can fool me with this goody two shoes act! You think you’re a good person? I know better. You’re a monster the way they told us Mom was, everyone down here was. You’re evil.”

A tiny shaking creature bursts from the darkness and, startled, your host smacks it with the book they’re carrying. It cries out in surprise, but it’s still standing, and you can feel it, right then, their control over your shared body waning with their determination. You grab their hands from the inside and slam the book into the cat-thing again, as hard as you can, and it gives this awful strangled cry before it bursts into dust, floating in the water.

You can feel their horror in your mind. They’re trembling, gasping, gripping the book with white knuckled fists.

“See!” You scream, “You did that! Your hands! Your hands did that because you let me! You are evil! _Evil evil evil!_ ”

Their hands tremble and you can feel your fingers inside of theirs, stoic.

* * *

 

“What, you think you get to go up there?” You laugh. You’re standing inside them, in front of the door, the barrier broken. They ignore you.

“You think you deserve to see the sun? You’re a murderer.” You laugh and their hands clench. “Is this the happy ending you wanted? Congrats, on me, really.”

They stop in front of the door, peering into the darkness, and then something weird happens.

* * *

 

You wake up in flowers. They’re swaying ever so gently against the soft flesh of your cheek, moist earth beneath your fingers. You sit up. You don’t know where you are.

“Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the flower!”

No, you do. You know exactly where and when you are. Talk about deja vu. Seems like the kind of power an evil human monster would have, at least.

You’re lost in your thoughts until you see a frog jump out at the two of you, startled by your presence. You can feel that they intend to spare it, but no. They don’t WANT to. They WANT to kill it, you just know, and they don’t get to play hero when they’re not. They don’t get happy endings when they’re an evil human with hate inside them. If they want to kill the frog, they have to live with that.

You grab the inside of their fingers and smash the stick into it, with enough force that it collapses into dust on the floor. Good. Good. Good. They feel like they’re going to cry. _Good_.

* * *

 

You shove your foot in Dad’s dust. It makes a weird powdery noise under the grind of your heel. They’re rather quiet in your head- they haven’t tried to fight you too much this time. They let that dumb skeleton go, and a few monsters, but you made them face the violence in their heart this time. It seems fair.

It’s not enough, though.

“Go back,” you hiss, “We’re not done here.”

They hesitate inside you. They don’t want to go back. “Don’t you want to save them?” You sneer, “go back again and hide at home so everybody lives.”

They think about it.

Something weird happens again.

* * *

 

You had to fight them more this time. You’d killed that stupid skeleton, finally, but they hadn’t let you kill Mom, so there was that. That didn’t seem fair. They needed to know that suffering. They needed to know that evil.

This is your destiny. Humans are evil. You are evil. You have a role in this story. You are not the traveler but the wolf in the woods, and a story must not end without a moral.

You are the moral of this story.

* * *

 

They’re utterly silent this time when you wake in the flowerbed. You kill Mom and you can feel them watching and you can feel the hurt in their heart like it’s yours. It’s only fair.

They fight you less and less the further you get. By the time you get to that stupid kid, the one in your way, they’re pretty much silent. It almost feels like this is your body, but of course it isn’t. You’re dead. God knows where _your_ body is.

It really won’t do, though. They’re supposed to be watching. They’re supposed to appreciate the evil they’re capable of, they’re supposed to watch while you show them why they’re worthless evil, because they don’t understand like you do.

You spare the kid, which catches their attention, dragging their consciousness back to the surface, but hey, they’ve lost a lot of will, and it’s easy to load your last save without their help. You slash at the kid this time, and that dumb fish girl they liked so much jumps out to take the blow. You can feel their revulsion behind your ribs when you filet her.

The fight’s tough, but nothing you can’t handle.

It’s only when you get to the skeleton you didn’t kill in the judgment hall before you get to kill Asgore you realize something is different. Something has changed. He’s not giving the same dumb speech he always does about judgement and feelings or whatever. He’s angry. His shoulders are set forward. He isn’t leaving.

“It’s a beautiful day outside,” he says, wow, as if you care. God, how would he know? He’s never seen the surface. He doesn’t even know what a beautiful day is. God, all these idiots take everything so seriously, as if you care. Don't they know all this is meaningless? You’re just trying to prove a point, it’s not like it’s personal or whatever, “Birds are singing, flowers are blooming-” That’s an understatement. Blooming annoying. Some flowers won’t shut up and let a kid walk.

“On days like this, kid’s like you…” He slides his hand out of his pocket, which draws your curious attention, “ _SHOULD BE BURNING IN HELL!_ ” He catches you off guard, startled as you are, and you’re utterly obliterated in the following blasts.

Wow. Alright. That sure happened. Load it up, try again.

You’re probably on try fifty or so when he stops. You wonder if the other kid is still watching, they’ve been silent so long. Maybe they’re gone. That would be weird.

There's a weird tingle along your spine, heavy and uncomfortae. It doesn't mean anything, but there's still that weird feeling. _Those are your sins_ , your spectator says, _Not mine._

“Hey… Friendship, right?” You’re only half paying attention as he goes on some sort of rambling shpiel about friendship or mercy or some other shit no evil human would ever care about, and then he opens both arms for a hug. It’s clearly a trap, and a fucking lazy one at that. You snort in laughter and tighten your grip around the knife. You’re going to step forward when you’re suddenly utterly overwhelmed by their sudden presence, and their hands are inside yours, their voice is screaming. You’re so startled by the suddenness of it that you’re unable to stop them from throwing your favourite knife away and running into his arms.

He skewers you both.

* * *

 

You wake up in flowers, startled. This was wrong. You weren’t supposed to be back here, you were just supposed to go back to the beginning of the hall. This was too far. Did you do this?

Your body moves without you, stepping forward and into the darkness. It doesn’t step out of the way of Flowey’s bullets and it won’t pick up that toy knife when you pass it. It refuses to fight Mom, over and over, until she lets you pass, and no matter how much you scream, no matter how you claw at the insides of their hands, they refuse to do what you want, refuse to bow to your will, refuse to be the evil creature you know they are. Eventually you grow still. Eventually you grow silent.

They stop in your old house and look in the mirror. They seem content, resolved, and you hate them.

“Despite everything,” you whisper, defeated, “it’s still just _you_.”

And then you see something new.

 _Asriel_. It’s Asriel. That stupid flower was Asriel all along, he wasn’t lying. He was Asriel and the kid had saved him. You had sat quietly inside, watching in silence. You had nothing to contribute anymore. You watched them tear their friends souls out, refusing over and over again to give up, to die, to kill.

You’d been _wrong_.

When his eyes swell up with tears, as tiny as you remember your brother being you’re overcome with determination and it’s you who chooses to comfort him, arms clamping around his neck and clinging. You don’t want to let go. You don’t know how. Frisk does it for you.

And then it’s time to go. The sunset is brilliant, the world is so much brighter than you remember. It’s a little much to take in, and when it’s just you and Frisk, alone, on the clifface, you whisper to them again for the first time in ages.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I was wrong.”

“I know,” they say, out loud. They probably look crazy. “I didn’t at first, but I figured it out.”

“Humans aren’t evil,” you say, voice shivering, “Just me. It was always just me.”

“We’re like, nine years old,” they sigh into the sunset, “The world did you wrong. I don’t blame you for retaliating.”

“I killed my parents.”

“I know. I’ve seen inside your head. They weren’t good people.”

“I’m evil.”

“I disagree.”

“How could you?” You want to cry, but you don’t have your own eyes anymore, “After everything I made you do…”

“I don’t think anyone’s evil,” they say softly, and stand, “I think that even the worst person can be good if they just try.”

You don’t know what to say. Their phone buzzes in their pocket and they check it; a text from Mom asking if they’re coming along soon.

“You should go,” you whisper, and you stand together for a moment, without vying for power or control.

“Do you want to come?” They ask, honestly, “You can, if you want. It’s okay.”

“No,” you say, firmly, “There’s somewhere else I need to go.”

Frisk nods. “I think I know what you want.”

“Will you take me there? I need… I can’t do it on my own. I’m sorry.”

They laugh, a little, “Of course.”

They text Mom they forgot something in the ruins and they’ll be there soon as they creep downward against the flow of traffic. People are packed and leaving, entire families ready to see the surface for the first time. Frisk takes you all the way down, to the very end, to the golden flowers and your brother’s fading spirit.

Asriel looks up at you, startled. He doesn’t see you, though, only Frisk. Your heart aches. Frisk holds out their hand, and curiously, Asriel takes it. You and Frisk take a breath together, and together, you let go.

* * *

 

You wake standing in golden flowers. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. Asriel was supposed to take your soul and get his second chance. You held your hands up to your face- jellybean pawpads and thin white fur. You blink, confused, and look at Frisk, who’s smiling.

“We can go together,” Asriel says, confidently, with your mouth. You can almost feel him stepping back, letting you use it, letting you respond.

“N- no, it’s- I can’t go with you-” you say, clenching your soft paws into fists. Your claws dig into your palms, “I’m evil. I can’t have a happy ending.”

“Do you want to be better?” Frisk asks, cocking their head to the side. You nod, pathetically, exhausted. “Then we forgive you. Don’t we, Asriel?” Asriel takes your body back for a moment to nod. There’s tears burning in your eyes. God, and you thought _he_ was the crybaby.

“We can go together,” Frisk says, voice gentle, “You need to see a world where it isn’t kill or be killed. You need to be shown kindness before you can expect yourself to know how to show it.”

You sniffle, pathetically, and wrap your hands around your arms because you don’t know how else to hug him like this.

“Okay,” you say, “Okay. Let’s go. Together.”


End file.
